


5 Times The Pack Couldn't Wait To Let Go Of Stiles' Hand, and 1 Time Derek Didn't Want To Let Go

by thegirlnamedcove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, Pre Sterek, Schmoop, Sweet, Unbeta'd, hand holding, night blindness, quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlnamedcove/pseuds/thegirlnamedcove
Summary: See, Stiles had night blindness. And he knew that sounded fake, but...he’d been diagnosed and everything, by a real doctor, who had attended medical school and still said the words “night blindness” out loud and in front of people, and that was a pretty big risk to take with your own reputation. At that point, Stiles had to consider the possibility that it was a real thing.





	5 Times The Pack Couldn't Wait To Let Go Of Stiles' Hand, and 1 Time Derek Didn't Want To Let Go

**ISAAC**

 

Isaac’s hands were suspiciously soft. Stiles wasn’t saying he had an in with the witch coven two towns over for magic moisturizer, he was just saying. It was _suspicious_. His hand felt like crushed velvet against Stiles’ own hand, the sensation more intense with the loss of his sight, and given how often Isaac was purposefully running him into trees, he figured he had reason to think through the possible explanations even when they were possibly, maybe, a little bit mean.

See, Stiles had night blindness. And he knew that sounded fake, but...he’d been diagnosed and everything, by a real doctor, who had attended medical school and still said the words “night blindness” out loud and in front of people, and that was a pretty big risk to take with your own reputation. At that point, Stiles had to consider the possibility that it was a real thing.

According to the internet (because of course he double-checked what his doctor was saying) it could be a side effect of untreated nearsightedness, but he would need a visit to an optometrist to know for sure and he and his dad had maxed out their insurance this year with all the trips to the emergency room and follow up medication, so he would have to wait until at least January to do that. And it was November.

So here he was, walking through the woods toward the lake buried deep in the valley behind Derek’s property, holding Isaac’s hand and unable to focus on anything but the feeling of his butter-soft skin.

Isaac took two steps to the left and when Stiles followed his shoulder ran into another tree.

“Motherfucker!” He ripped his hand away and sat down on the hard ground, anger pour off him in waves.

 

**SCOTT**

 

Scott was kinder, his hand rougher, and Stiles gladly followed him through the woods, even if it meant the group as a whole moved slower. Scott was the alpha, and normally lead the charge when they set out to confront a new creature, but he still cared quite a bit about the “bro code” that Stiles had mostly made up as he went along, and he was determined to stand by Stiles for whatever he needed.

The wolves to the left and right of them grumbled, loud enough for Stiles to hear which was obviously intentional, as they covered a half mile or so in an hour.

Scott squeezed his hand in a show of support, and ducked his head to plow forward through a rush of trees.

Stiles wasn’t sure any of them really appreciated what it was like to be a human, even though most had been a plain old human at some point in their life. They’d adapted to their wolf senses, grown comfortable, and now even after he’d sat them all down and told them exactly what was happening and why, most of them acted like he was making it up. Like he was being lazy. Like through sheer effort he could just choose to see in the dark, the way they could when they were speeding up their healing.

Just behind him he heard a cough, suspiciously masculine and nasally, coughing out “weak link”. He ground his teeth together and let go of Scott’s hand, veering to the left toward what he hoped was Kira.

 

**KIRA**

 

Kira was nice. Really, Scott couldn’t have done any better, as far as life partners went. With her fox training done, and her base trickster nature under control, she was a wonderful, empathetic person. But she didn’t get it, not in the way that bitten wolves should have, what it was like being impaired. She’d always been superhuman, in a way she’d never quite registered on her own, and he’d been able to tell as soon as they linked hands. Unlike Isaac or Scott she didn’t drag him behind her, taking the lead and giving him time to work out what her twists and turns meant on a half second delay. She walked beside him. Their shoulders knocked together occasionally, and she was humming a song he couldn’t recognize, but she wasn’t really showing him the way as much as taking him on a romantic platonic stroll through the abyss of darkness he was currently in. After only a few minutes in her grip, his foot caught on a root and he tripped forward onto his face, hitting the dirt with an audible ‘whump!’

 

**BOYD**

 

Boyd hoisted him out of the dirt and held him by the scruff of his neck, reminding him for all the world of his old elementary school principal. Boyd was practical, and efficient, and it was an amazing force to have in a wolf pack. When everyone around him was a mess of instincts and hormones, Boyd was an island. Stiles had to imagine he broke down in private, with Erica or maybe Isaac (if that velvet-skinned psycho even had feelings), but in front of anyone else? Nuh-uh. He was a rock.

Which is what made it so surprising when his grip relaxed--still ostensibly threatening to anyone on the outside watching them walk together, hand splayed over the width of Stiles’ neck and fingertips pressing lightly against his arteries where they pushed against the skin--and he ran a thumb up and down Stiles’ pulse. He was tender, and gentle where he directed Stiles, even as he took no shit and the whole thing made Stiles smile to himself. Everyone could probably see him grinning like an idiot while being shoved around, and that was going to result in weird questions later, probably. He didn't care.

Boyd made him feel safe, even when the stiff line of his arm made it clear how tense and uncomfortable the whole scenario was making him. Everyone else could just fucking suck it.

 

**ERICA**

 

He didn’t end up in Erica’s care because Boyd fucked up. Far from it. He ended up in Erica’s care because she fucking took him, shoved herself in between the pair and wrestled Stiles’ hand free, cackling her horrible witch laugh of hers at his disoriented squawk. He didn’t know who it was at first, until that cackle, wondered if the kelpie had snuck up on them.

“Hey there, hot stuff. Wanna go steady with me?” she simpered, the laugh in her voice barely concealed. Stiles huffed and tried to get his heartrate under control.

“Nah, I like ‘em with more facial hair,” he breathed, about two beats too late to seem unaffected, “No offense.”

He heard a soft smack against skin and surmised that she’d slapped her bare hand to her bare chest.

“You aren’t even willing to give us a _chance_ , Batman? I can change! I can grow a beard! I’ll be your beard in every sense of the word!”

Beside her Boyd tried desperately to stifle a chuckle, and she cackled again, her whole body leaning back and her arm pulling against Stiles’ in turn. Stiles couldn’t help but smirk, and ducked his head in an attempt to hide it.

“Who would I be to break up this happy marriage?” he offered, once everyone had calmed down, gesturing toward what he assumed was still Boyd beside them, and then back to Erica, “A homewrecker, that’s who.”

Erica huffed, and Boyd choked on spit, and then there was the weighty sort of silence that meant he’d hit on a subject far too sensitive and deep for him to stay a part of.

He let go of Erica’s hand and drifted away from the pair, off to the right of Scott, just hoping against hope that someone would be there to catch him, and guide him.

 

**DEREK**

 

The hand that took him, in the middle of the neverending darkness, was rough and huge. It circled his fingers first, able to cover them completely, and then moved down to slot against his palm as a solid, heavy weight.

He choked a little himself, pretty sure of who this was but not wanting to make any assumptions, and tried to turn the noise into something meaningful.

“Hiya...hey...there. Good looking out...man. Woman? I think man. But, like...you don’t carry your penis in your hand so...I can’t know for sure? What your genital situation is. Or, really what that has to do with you being a man. Or woman. It doesn't. Please save me. I don’t think I can turn my mouth off at this stage and if you don’t help, I’ll--”

“Penis.”

And that was definitely Derek’s voice, but in the same token there was no way that was Derek’s voice. There was no way Derek’s voice had just said the word “penis” to him, with no joking inflection or even a hint of embarrassment.

“What?”

“Penis. I have a penis. Since you seemed interested,” the voice said, and now he was sure he was hallucinating.

“Okay. Well. Good to know. Although, you know, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m pretty equal opportunity, as these things go. In relationships but also in...not relationships. In friendships. Doesn’t really matter. I’ll be friends with anyone. The penis is...not required.”

A slight breath of laughter slipped from the definitely-not-Derek person beside him, almost by accident it sounded like, and the knot of anxiety at the base of his neck loosened. He might not be the most socially graceful--or physically graceful--but at least he was funny.

When he was younger his mom had sat him down on the kitchen counter and caught his eye, her face totally serious for once, and told him that no matter who he dated he should be sure to marry someone who made him laugh. That way, even when things were hard, they would be a little bit easier with that person around.

So he had that going for him. He could hold some appeal for a potential partner, provided they’d received similar advice.

The world began to lighten by degrees, first to a deep slate gray, then to shades of silver, then to a black and white movie, until finally they broke through the treeline and saw the lake before them, reflecting the light of the three quarter moon, fat but not quite full, and Stiles could see.

It wasn’t perfect--wasn’t like seeing in the daytime--but he could see and that was what mattered. His eyes trailed down to where his and Derek’s fingers were tangled together and then he yanked his gaze back up, meeting Derek’s eye. Derek, for his part, looked vaguely yearning, and he tightened his grip and used it to pull Stiles slowly closer.

“I like it, you know,” he said, and then offered nothing else.

Stiles stared at him, his mouth naturally falling open, and then finally shook his own head and shook both of their hands.

“No, I don’t know,” he said, “Like what?”

Derek huffed a laugh and looked toward where the rest of the pack was positioning themselves around the edge of the lake, seemingly just as aware as Stiles that he’d have to let go soon.

“I like the contact. ‘S a wolf thing, being tactile. Maybe we could…” he started, and then cut himself off, scowling at his feet.

“...do it again?” Stiles guessed. He was greeted with a sardonic half smile from Derek, and in return his heart soared into his throat.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Stiles breathed, and then he let go of Derek’s hand, letting it flutter down toward’s Derek’s thigh where it normally rested, usually curled into an anxious fist, “You go get ‘em. I’ll stay here and cast protection spells. Then we can talk after.”

Derek kept his eyes averted, nodded. A blush painted across his cheeks, although Stiles couldn’t really see it so much as sense it from the way Derek was acting, hiding his face as much as he could without literally burying his head in the dirt like an ostrich.

“Yeah, okay.”

And then he was gone, off to join the other shapeshifters on the water’s edge, ready to fight an aquatic horse, and for the first time all night no one was holding Stiles’ hand. Still, it tingled with the promise of Derek’s return, and at the chance to maybe, finally, put some of their push and pull to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in less than an hour and didn't bother to have it beta'd so...you all have to live with the mistakes same as I do. I saw a tumblr post and couldn't help myself, although I didn't anticipate finishing it so fast. I kind of thought it'd turn into one of those 30k fics that never get finished in my drafts, the ones that are in limbo forever.
> 
> In most of my universes Allison is dead/gone, but Boyd and Erica aren't, and that should speak to my feelings on those characters. Berica forever, and Scira forever, Allison can go choke. I am so sick of giving hunters the benefit of the doubt.


End file.
